


Celadon Cicadas

by grafitti



Series: Celadon Cicadas [1]
Category: Mushishi
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Case Fic, False Identity, Gen, Ginko gets an apprentice, Ginko is immortal, Immortality, Modern Era, Mushi - Freeform, Post-Series, Sometimes there are intermisisons between chapters, Sort of? since its a different case every chapter, Unofficial Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-10-30 01:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10865949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grafitti/pseuds/grafitti
Summary: Ginko has lived a long time, through many names, through many lives. In his undying skin, he breathes, awaiting the next moment like he has every other. He has come into immortality, and lives his life as a mushishi in modern day. He's acquired his own shoppe, established his own business, and has made a mark on the town without ever bringing himself into the limelight.["Celadon Cicadas" is an episodic story that explores Ginko's mushishi life in modern day, and how the past seems to catch up to Ginko once he takes on an apprentice. Post-Series.]





	1. Prelude

Settled. That was a word for it, he supposed. It was that feeling that arose when one lived a routine until it spoke of comfort. It was when the days merged together and flowed from one moment to the next like the ebbing of a watery shoreline. It was that soothing numbness that came from standing in one spot until his feet belonged no where else.

Ginko chewed on the end of a hand-rolled cigarillo, the dry herbs tasting like toasted earth as he toed the corner of the store counter. Glowing jellyfish-shaped mushi floated gently above him, moving back and forth to catch dust in their awaiting mouths. He supposed that he was settled, even when he used to wander from place to place, living through what seemed to be like a never ending daydream where nothing dictated his motions.

He was settled then, even though he only kept track of the date to decide when his next departure was. See, it was a routine, a string of occasions and visits linked together by long, quiet travels through mountains and fields. It was comfortable, and although it was a 'round-the-clock schedule he had immersed himself in, it never quite felt as placid as working out of a townhouse. Now, he felt more "settled" than ever before, and sometimes it just didn't feel like quite enough.

When he used to wander, his empty hours were taken up by reading maps, putting together shelters, and ducking into marketplaces to replenish his stores. There was plenty to occupy him. Although being an herbalist was far more lucrative than being a mushishi, it could be a bit dull at times, simply sitting at a wooden counter and waiting for customers to arrive. There were couple of school children here and there, trying to figure out whether he was a wizard or a man-eating yokai working to lure in foolish humans for food. The children usually just peered in through the windows and ran off whenever their gazes met a single, unwavering green eye. Other times it was the elderly looking for something similar to the dried plants and concentrated teas they'd take when they were younger, and they'd end up feeling remarkably at-home in Ginko's antiquated little pharmacy regardless of the pale man's strange aura.

But every so often, when an affliction was particularly bizarre, or an associate was in town and asking for "Ginko; a man who has white hair even though he's not old," then he would work with the mushi again, and finally his nostalgia would be revitalized, know-how from field guides that he had read swirling in the front of his brain as if he had never stopped wandering. As if he had never stopped to settle into a stationary nest. It made him feel alive.

Slowly, softly, Ginko blew wisps of smoke at the floating jellyfish, it's see-through tentacles pulsating with a blue sheen as it scuttled away in midair.

In fact, it felt like the very essence of life itself.


	2. The Caress of Izanami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The greatest gift from the gods was life itself. To birth, to be birthed... If one could create life with just a touch, would one be a god?

Yoshida Mikoto shook like a leaf, her hand trembling slightly as she turned up the heat on the thermostat. It happened again – and now she knew that the shrines wouldn't help either. She'd prayed at the shrine everyday since the doctors couldn't find anything wrong, except that she might be delusional, but she wasn't. Mrs. Yoshida definitely wasn't.

"Mikoto?" Her husband's voice echoed from the front door. "Are you ready yet? The Watari family is expecting us any minute!"

"J-Just tidying up before we go, dear," her voice wavered, her shaking figure standing in her daughter's room, unseen by her husband whose voice echoed through the apartment. "Actually... I'm not feeling all that well; I've got a chill and I'm a little light-headed. You should go without me."

"Are you sure? I can stay here and take care of you. And what should I say to the Watari family?"

"N-no, it's fine. And Mrs. Watari will understand, these things happen. I'll just rest until you come back."

"Okay... Don't strain yourself, alright?" The quiet click of the door felt like a shout, spurring her into action. Yoshida Mikoto grabbed her coat and her scarf, bundling up before making her way into the bright sunny day.

She held confidence that she was not imagining any of this. This required action. The doctors could call her delusional all they wanted, because it all felt all too real when she made eye contact with her daughter's rabbit – because stuffed toys weren't supposed to look back.

It was time to check out that shaman that Mrs. Watari told her about. The one with the white hair who lived in that dusty little shop down the road.

* * *

Ginko sighed, placing his unlit cigarillo into a notch on a black ashtray. No need to smoke mushi tobacco right now – the shop already had enough of that with the incense that was always burning in the corner. Mushi incense, of course. It saved a lot of money to be using incense instead of puffing on rolled leaves all day.

"Ahh, is no one going to stop by today?" Ginko gave a bored sigh. "Well... It's more peaceful like this." He leaned back in his seat, absentmindedly watching the glowing, shifting figures of mushi float around sluggishly through the scented air, spirals uncurling and curling back up again, geometric angles bending into shining shapes in the air. The incense didn't repel mushi completely – just slowed them down, made them want to sleep or float around somewhere farther away from the scent. The cigarillos were stronger, but it wasn't healthy to be smoking all the time, and his lungs thanked him for it.

A faint sound of laughter milled about as uniformed teenagers walked past the glass door from their school, voices barely heard among the muffled ambiance of cars on the road, the tick tock of the brass bracket clock sitting on a nearby shelf, and the deeper, shifting tone of the pendulum in the grandfather clock standing stiff by the front door. He brushed off some dust from the beckoning cat sitting beside him, shining the porcelain figure with the edge of his sleeve. Ginko scoffed. Wasn't this statue supposed to bring in more customers?

A loud honk broke Ginko out from his reverie. Out in the sunlight beyond the shop windows, an old man was railing at a middle-aged woman as she crossed the street in a heavy coat and a thickly knit scarf – right through active traffic. _What is she doing? It's dangerous to cross the street like that!_ Ginko thought, his lips twisting into the corner as he watched the scene continue. She gave the truck driver a quick bow as an apology and pushed her way past the high school students who stopped to stare, her red heels clacking on the pavement as she made her way to Ginko's shop. The metal bell jingled as the door opened, the woman in all her red pencil skirt and heavy coat striding straight up to the counter.

"Welcome! How can I help you –"

"You're Nakano, yes?" She interrupted, her breath coming out in hurried puffs. "Nakano Yuto?"

"... today?" Ginko finished, trailing off as he took note of her frazzled hair and panicked expression. "Ah, yes. I'm Nakano Yuto, but you can call me Ginko."

"Oh good," The woman seemed to give a sigh of relief as if it was the first thing to go her way since she woke up. Her feet shuffled in place as she pulled her woolen coat tighter around her, despite the hot weather outside. "My name is Yoshida Mikoto. I've gone to everyone I could about this – doctors, herbalists, Buddhist monks, shrine maidens... But... Nothing worked. Will you be able to help me?" A worried tone carried through the thick scarf that she hid her face in.

"Well, I'll see what I can do, Miss Yoshida," he assured her, reminded mightily of the many fearful and wary clientele he had served in the past. No one came into his shop in a frenzy like this unless mushi were involved. "What seems to be the problem?" Quickly, the woman tugged her sleeve up to mid forearm.

"This." A thin, manicured hand slapped itself onto the smooth head of the beckoning cat. It shivered under her palm, a ripple moving through the shiny surface.

_What?_

Ginko's eyes widened, watching as the stoic form of the cat wiggled like water, pulling and melting in parts that started to move freely. It rolled it's joints as it started to move and stretch out it's limbs. The cat – if he could call it that – meowed loudly, the jaw stretching out like it was trying to yawn. It's... alive. It stretched out it's back before licking it's paw to groom fur that wasn't there, succeeding only in shining the surface of the ceramic with it's saliva.

"Now you see my problem?" Mikoto cried incredulously, as if Ginko had been too stubborn to believe her even though he hadn't said anything yet. She shivered, rubbing at her thin shoulders. "Things have been just, just – coming to life, as it were! Out of nowhere! I picked up my daughter's toys today and her stuffed rabbit hopped around her room!"

Ginko rubbed a finger over the strangely hard-yet-soft surface of the cat, massaging a spot on it's upper back that sent a rumbling purr through it's ceramic kitty body.

"Amazing... Miss, can you bring anything to life? Or is it limited?" Mikoto gave a huff, her sharp, french manicured nails pinching the bridge of her nose as she wracked her brain for past incidents.

"No. Just objects," she explained, biting her lip as her hands rubbed at her cotton-clad arms. The cat pushed it's head into Ginko's dexterous hand, allowing him to inspect it's glossy surface. "And only things with faces. Like statues, or toys." She nearly collapsed into a nearby chair, leaning onto the counter as her legs lowered her onto the wicker surface. "I don't even know why this is happening to me."

Ginko let go of the cat, allowing it to jump down to the creaky wooden floor and explore the dimly-lit store.

"This cat came to life because of mushi," he stated simply, picking the cigarillo up again to hold it comfortably between his lips. Yoshida raised a brow at him, her upset frown deepening at his strange words.

"Mushi?"

"Yes. And I am a mushishi." The corner of his mouth twitched upward – one of the best parts of the job was explaining the otherworldly beings to other people, after all. He took a strange pleasure in introducing people to a world they'd only ever been on the fringes of before, with only the peripheral effects of mushi being recognized to be odd and unusual happenstances at all. It was even rarer now, to be able to see mushi, as well as having mushi-related problems in the first place. But this – this was interesting.

He leaned across the counter, pulling a hot incense stick from the burner to draw figure in the air. He was tracing the shapes of the mushi that floated around them, but she didn't know that. A smoky hexagon there, a faint swirl of triangles here... A fading, curlicue design, elegant like a feather and long like a snake.

"There are things in the world called 'mushi,' not just bugs, but ethereal organisms that can't be seen by most people. They are life in it's purest form, existing as mysteries where the lines between plant, animal, and fungi blur," Mikoto furrowed her brows apprehensive, but enraptured by the unknown world that Ginko described to her. "They may exist on the periphery of people's lives, but they can affect us to a very great degree, including incidents such as this." He pointed to the glossy cat batting at a spot of sunlight on the floor as if it would strike back.

"And a mushishi is...?" Mikoto rubbed at her arms again, trying to bury herself deeper in her woolen coat. Her clothing is far too heavy for June... Why is she shivering?

"The bridge between the mushi world and the human world. Mushishi are trained to solve problems with the mushi – to investigate strange occurrences and fix them if needed. May I?" he said, gesturing for her hand. She held it out, unsure of what was going to happen. Ginko's calloused, heavy hands cradled Mikoto's left palm, sandwiching it in the middle like pages in a book. An icy feeling pooled in her palm. Curious, he pushed her sleeve up and placed a thumb on her wrist – colder than her palm – and slowly traveled up her forearm. She was so cold... Her skin looked healthy enough right now, but it was as if she stayed in underground storage for a month. "I've heard about a mushi that can animate the inanimate, but I'm not sure why your skin is so cold. I'll have to look through some records before doing anything." When Ginko paused his ministrations on her hand, Mikoto yanked it back, pulling her coat sleeve over her knuckles.

"But how long is that going to take? And what am I supposed to do in the mean time?"

"Maybe a day or two for research on the mushi itself, but I don't know about the time needed for a treatment yet." Ginko stood to grasp at the floor-to-ceiling medicine cabinet beside him. A drawer here, another there, and Ah. There they were. The string column of triangular medicine packets swung from his hand. Mikoto took them warily, grimacing as she pocketed what she no doubt thought was an out-dated method of curing her condition. "A mushi like this would be living inside your body for the most part, especially since it's playing with your body temperature. This medicine should help sedate them a little and keep your ability from developing too fast." He held out a pad of paper for her to write her contact information on, and she obliged.

"Should I wear gloves to prevent things from animating?" Ginko gave her a small smile, trying to reassure her.

"You don't have to, but you can to keep your hands warm. It may not seem like it to you, but right now I think that it should be fine so long as you're careful about what you touch." Perhaps a bit stunned, her word of thanks was stilted and awkward. Her expression downcast, she bid him a good day before leaving the store, footsteps shortened by her red heels.

* * *

"W-Whoa!" Ginko nearly lost his balance as he stood atop a wobbly, three-legged stool. He steadied himself by grabbing the edge of a high shelf, careful not to pull too hard on the aged wood. "Whew... That was close..." Leaning slightly in one direction to keep the stool from moving, he pushed the heavy box he held onto the shelf, moving the glass jars aside so that it could go farther back. Pale fingers placed the barest pressure on the jars, slowly lifting and resettling them so as to not disturb the sleeping creatures within, their glow dulled by decades of hibernation.

Ginko had hit a wall in his research. First, he looked up mushi that bring objects to life. The Me-Odori only made the affected feel like all eyes were on them until they started to hallucinate the eyes of objects actually moving, so that couldn't be it. An echo-like meow caught his attention. It was the ceramic cat trying to catch a moth that had been flitting through the closet. He had ruminated on the thought of Yoshida being able to create Tsukumogami somehow, a mushi that would bring objects to life (it was still Ginko's most reliable theory,) but their effect was weak during the day; they only animated objects while in the dark. That particular mushi also didn't bother with any objects under a hundred years old. The next option would have been the Chozo-Jitekko, which would draw things towards the mushi like a magnet, but only the cat that Yoshida Mikoto touched was moving, and it roamed wherever it pleased instead of being pulled toward a focal point.

He sighed as he moved some jars of mushi specimen around – it was Row B's turn to be in the front (it would give them better access to light whenever the lamp was on.) Back on stable ground, he stored the stool upright under the lowest shelf, where he kept large pots and sturdier supplies.

On one hand, difficult cases made him want to yank at his hair, but on the other hand... They were exhilarating. Ginko lived for a long time; it had been perhaps a decade or two since he last met a mushi-related condition that had never been seen before, at least, as far as his own library goes. Perhaps the Karibusa clan's own atheneum held answers to Yoshida's predicament.

Ah... Ginko scratched the back of his head. Was that even a good idea? Perhaps not. It had been a while since he last visited, after all.

"Oh?" Sleek ceramic nudged at his hand, meowing until Ginko massaged the cat's face and neck. "You're a sweetie, aren't you?" Big black eyes, flat in shade with barely any gradation to show its three-dimensional shape, blinked at him, the cat's head cocked at an angle. He picked the cat up under the arms, pulling it in close to hold it as he moved from the storage closet to the library.

It was mostly dark, the only source of light being a battery-powered LED lantern stationed on a wide, but short desk ensconced among old shelves filled to the brim with collected tomes and encyclopedias. A misty breath curled in the still air, disappearing into crisp air. He was glad for his slippers, a sage green cotton that kept his bare skin from touching the chilled, rough-hewn stone floor. Ginko rolled up a few scrolls that he had been reading earlier, but he hadn't found any pertinent information, so he placed them in a basket to be re-shelved at a later time.

"Well, it's time to get back to work." He seated himself on a faded orange cushion, prepared to start where he left off. He only barely read a paragraph before a sound called out to him.

_Nya._

Ah, the cat again. He turned out to see the living figurine sitting in the open doorway, silhouetted against the light from the house.

"Come here," he patted his lap, opening his posture to draw in the cat. Slowly, a paw touched the floor. The cat yowled, hissing at the feel of the stone. "What's wrong?" Ginko went and picked up the cat,, which latched onto his shirt to nestle in his arms. He gasped, nearly dropping the cat right then and there, worried for a second that it would shatter if he did.

 _So... So cold!_ He pulled back his hands to hold the cat up with only his clothed arms. _It... It feels like ice. No matter how long I hold it, it doesn't seem to get any warmer._ He stumbled, dropping the cat and sinking down to one knee. The cat didn't seem to mind standing on the cold floor anymore, although it stayed close by, perhaps waiting for Ginko to pick it up again. _What?_ Black dots swarmed his vision, eating at the edges of his sight. _Damn... The cat's been doing this the whole time... I didn't even feel it until now..._ His mouth twisted in a scowl when he thought back to all the times he had pet the ceramic figure that day. The cat wasn't cold because it was ceramic, it was cold because it was draining his heat!

The cat meowed again, pawing at his white hair on the floor, but never quite touching his skin. It yowled in distress, watching his eyelids flutter as his shaking limbs failed to push his body off the floor.

 _Sorry, kitty cat..._ Keeping his eyes open was difficult now. _I'm tired._

_I'm really, really tired._

* * *

Yoshida Mikoto grimaced as she took a gulp of her tea. The medicine that she added was incredibly bitter, but she felt a little less cold. During her drink, she tested her touch on a nearby bear carving that her sister had sent her from Hokkaido; even as its edges seemed to waver and jive under her palm, the wooden bear's four legs stayed put.

"It worked! The medicine worked!" Excited, she abandoned her cup of tea on the dining room table, testing out her normal-ish hands on every character object in the house.

Her daughter's toys only jiggled in place. The dog-shaped automatic air freshener on top of the TV set didn't bark at her. Her husband's Buddha statue that sat cross-legged on the coffee table did not stand to stretch its limbs. Mikoto bounced on the balls of her feet, barely containing her ecstatic mood. The only downside (besides the bitter taste) was that the medicine was not a cure. That man – Nakano, or Ginko or whoever he was – did say that it would lessen the effects of whatever was wreaking havoc on her life. More likely than not, the effects would fade and the medicine would not work anymore.

A peppy tune played from her purse sitting on the lounge chair. It was her phone, although she couldn't think of who would be calling her today. Her husband was currently at work, and she requested a day off from her own job. Perhaps it was Mrs. Watari, checking in on how the treatment that Nakano Yuto gave her was doing?

"Hello?" said Mikoto upon opening the black flip phone.

" _Hello, is this Yoshida Mikoto? Mother of Yoshida Yukina? This is Saitou Karin._ " A voice, made scratchy from the phoneline, spoke from the other end. She recognized the name and voice as belonging to Yukina's teacher. Suddenly worried, Mikoto gave her confirmation and asked if anything was wrong. " _Ah, it's just that Yukina is feeling quite weak... She's got the chills, and is reluctant to move. We were hoping that you could take her home as she doesn't seem to be well enough to stay in school today._ "

"I'll be right over – tell Yukina that I'll see her soon, ok?" Mikoto hung up on Saitou without another word, hurriedly picking through her bag to make sure she had her keys and wallet. She grabbed her coat just in case before locking the door behind her, forgetting the rest of her medicinal tea on the dining table.

 

* * *

In the car, Yukina was quiet.

She felt coldest in the morning, before she left home to make it to her second grade class – they were doing finger painting today, and she didn't want to miss that. It was warmer at school, but her limbs still felt heavy and frail, like she wouldn't be able to pick anything up if she tried.

Tired, Yukina barely noticed the caring grip of her mother as she was guided into the spacious apartment to be checked over. A plush blanket was thrown around her shoulders and wrapped around her sides to keep her warm, and her mother pulled down the gauzy, white flu mask that her teacher gave her in order to press a plastic cup full of gross syrup to her lips.

"Yukina, you need to drink it all if you want to be healthy," her mother told her. She wrinkled her nose at the taste of the syrup, but she drank the rest of it down anyway, too tried to protest even though she readily gulped at a glass of water that her mother gave her right after to wash away the coating of medicine on her tongue. Her mother's feet padded softly down the hall, and Yukina listened to her voice on the phone with the pediatrician, not really paying attention to what was being said. She shivered, bringing her feet up and under the blanket, trying to enclose herself in the soft quilt. Her body as well as her mind felt slow and sluggish, as if the cold feeling in her weighed her down too heavily for her to do much of anything besides sleep and try to stay warm.

Yukina teared up a little, wiping at her eyes. It wasn't fair! Why did she have to be the only one to miss finger painting day? Being sick was the worst, because all that happened was that your stomach hurt and your face felt like it was clogged, and it would only ever happen when there was something you wanted to do. Like finger painting. Upset, Yukina slowly trudged to her room, a hand bracing the wall to keep herself up on her trip to her bed. She didn't want to do anything if she couldn't finger paint.

"Yukina?" her mother asked, finished with her phone call to the doctor's office. "How are you feeling?"

"...I wanna sleep." Her mouth felt stiff as she moved it, her little voice slurred by her low energy. "But I wanna paint more than that."

"Hey, you can paint all you want once you're healthy, ok? But you need to stay warm and get some rest for now." Her mother's voice was always soft to her, even if it had a hard edge when talking to other adults. "We'll go to the doctor tomorrow, and then we'll see if you can paint a bit." Under a heavy comforter despite it being the middle of the summer, Yukina absentmindedly watch her mother leave the room, picking up the strewn-about toys before she left as a mother was wont to do.

With the door closed, the air was quiet, and Yukina grew bored, pouting as she spent her time staring at the black plastic eyes of the plush animals her mother sat on top of the dresser, particularly at those of Sakura, the pink bunny that sat closest to her bed. In the center of it's tummy was a plastic shell, one side open like a fireplace, with a little plastic flower inside. The smooth surface of the stuffed rabbits plastic eyes seemed to gleam in the dim light of the room, a shiny surface embedded in the pink terry cloth surface of the doll's face. But then it looked at her the same way that she would imagine her bunny Sakura to do, a quick head tilt and a twitching nose as it stared right back at her.

Slow and sluggish, just like her, the bunny lifted its limbs and ambled across the white wooden dresser to get closer to her. Yukina giggled, lifting her hand to pet the soft head of her bunny, letting it nose her fingers like a real animal. This wasn't so bad – she might not be able to paint, but being able to cuddle her favorite toy (especially now that it was moving) was just as exciting. It seemed to gain better control of it's body, a little more spry as it hopped to the edge of the dresser, wary of the short distance between the dresser and her bed.

"Come here," Yukina beckoned, rising from her bed to spread her arms. She stood on her knees, picking up the pink bunny and holding it in her hands to watch Sakura's little nose twitch. Trying to keep in a giggle (as her mother would be really mad if she wasn't resting in bed right now), Yukina bounced in place despite how much colder she felt outside of the blankets, the metal springs of the mattress creaking. "This is so cool!" She tried to get out of bed in order to play a game with Sakura, although she wasn't sure what she'd play, but she stumbled, practically tripping over her own feet as she fell to the floor.

"Yukina?" Her mother's voice called, "You should be in bed!" The door opened, and Yukina picked herself up from the floor, looking up when she heard her mother yelp as she stared right at Sakura. The bunny hopped around, patting her leg to be picked up. "Yukina, don't touch that!" But she did anyways, having already bent down to nestle Sakura in her arms again.

"But mommy... She's my..." Yukina's words trailed off as the bunny tucked its face into her arm. Her body was heavier than ever before, and she struggled to keep her eyes open. Her breath was foggy, and her fingers felt stiff with the sudden icy feeling that felt like cracks throughout her body. She was really, very tired, and woozy as well. Was this because she was sick? "Bunny..." Yukina dropped the rabbit plush, unable to keep her eyes open any longer.

"Yuki? Yukina?!" Mikoto threw herself over her daughter, picking her up gingerly. "Yukina!"

* * *

"Mr. Nakano?" She called, frantic as she pushed her way into the heavily scented storefront. There was no one there, the space behind the counter being empty. "Nakano Yuto? Are you there? I need your help, my daughter's hurt!" She called out for him again, hoping desperately for a response. In the corner, she spotted an open doorway, it's insides dark. Peering inside, her gaze fell upon a frozen pair of legs and the body of an unconscious man.

"Nakano!" Mikoto rushed to his side and turned him over. He coughed weakly, clammy and heavy in her arms. "What happened to you?"

"Stupid cat..." He groaned, eyes blearily seeking out the ceramic figure in the space around him, relieved when he couldn't find it. "Where's the cat?" He pulled himself up a little too quickly, stumbling as he tried to stand up.

"Take it slow, you're not well." Mikoto glanced behind her, seeing the porcelain feline sitting in a corner behind the counter, still as it was before she touched it the first time. "It's a statue again. Nakano-san, what happened?"

The white-haired man palmed at his arm, rubbing warmth back into his skin in circles.

"It was the cat... I passed out when it stayed around me..." But the cat kept away, by the way it seems to have sat itself in the corner, far away from his collapsed figure. "I have a theory about the mushi that causes your power, but I need to confirm it." Ginko turned to Mikoto, meeting the distraught black of her irises. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine – it's my daughter. I think whatever's been... affecting me, is also making her sick." Yoshida Mikoto wiped a tear from her face. "She was so cold... And when she collapsed, I took her straight to the hospital. Her father's with her right now – I thought it best if I came to get your help and stayed away, since I'm the problem." She sobbed, her breath catching in her hand. Wiping at her shaky eyes, she slowly pulled a rabbit-shaped doll from her purse. It writhed in her hand, but she held it up to show it to Ginko without handing it to him – it wouldn't do to have him collapse like his daughter. Ginko looked at the middle carefully, as if he could see something she couldn't.

"Ah... Yes... I guess the kagebi in this doll is invisible to you because it's small. You would be able to see it if it were bigger." He murmured.

"What are you talking about? What exactly can't I see and what does it have to do with my daughter?"

"You can't see it right now, but there is a small blue flame called a kagebi resting within that enclave inside the doll. Instead of giving off heat, it takes heat. This is what made your daughter and I collapse. It houses itself in empty spaces like pots, fire pits, and caves to lure in people and animals to steal their warmth. Eventually they... pass on." Mikoto gasped, breaking out into another sob as she threw the kagebi-infested doll against a cupboard.

"Your power is caused by the kaminote, a mushi that brings inanimate objects to life. The medicine I gave you is able to make the kaminote and similar mushi feel sluggish. The kaminote, for most of it's life, lives in dark places and warm conditions, but sometimes it lives just under the skin of living beings. When it comes time to reproduce, it's microscopic spores are shed with dead skin cells from the hands and settle on anything touched. The spores will only animate the object if there is a heat source. When animated, the object moves around in order to spread the kaminote, as it is usually unable to move itself. Combined with regular heat, the object will move around so long as it's warm enough, but combined with a kagebi... well, then it leeches the heat of living beings like the kagebi, and will move around to take it as it desires. Thankfully, the kagebi won't hurt you, even though you feel cold. The kaminote is protecting you."

"But what about my daughter?" Mikoto pleaded, tugging at Ginko's shirt sleeve. "She's in the hospital right now, probably scared out of her mind. She was so cold when I took her there, is she going to be ok?" Ginko gently pried her clenched fist off of his shirt sleeve and stood up, dusting off his pants.

"She'll be fine as long as she stays away from the kagebi. Just some proper food and rest in the meantime. But we need to get rid of them, and to do that, I'll need your help." Ginko held a hand out to help her up, careful to not touch the rabbit.

Yoshida took a deep breath, her thin, lithe fingers gently placing themselves in Ginko's rough palm.

"Tell me what I need to do."

"Follow me." And she did. Ginko, sparing only a glance at the frozen ceramic cat and unwilling to touch it, turned back to the dark room in which the woman found him. Lantern in hand, he walked along the brown lines set between the gray stones in the floor, his steps sluggish after being exposed for so long to the enchanted cat. Mikoto supposed that they must be going to the basement, the click of her heels sounding louder and louder as they made their way into a thick, yet natural silence.

"We're going to catch the kagebi that have been nesting on you – neither of us can see them right now, but we're going to trap them right here. Stand at the desk." Ginko gathered all the little statues, candle holders, and other miscellanies in the house that had faces or limbs and placed them around the mother, like an audience in an amphitheater.

"Just stand here?"

"Yes, just stand there. With the cat." He placed the inanimate beckoning cat into her hands, backing away again as it spring to life in Yoshida's arms. "Bring the other statues to life too." Her hands were hesitant, sometimes he could spot them shaking as she gingerly held each object with as little of her palm as possible, as if she would be burned. "Your whole palm, Yoshida-san. The unique heat will attract the kagebi."

One by one, they jumped to life, moving around with a little blue flame dancing inside, although Ginko could only see it within a few of them, as his view was sometimes blocked by metal or ceramic. The cat yawned, it's mouth wide, and he spotted a blue glow inside it's mouth as well. A tealight cup with the face of daruma ran around on two feet, its balance ungainly and unbalanced. Yoshida kept holding the objects around her until she held one object, and it went right back to being inanimate once she put it down.

"Why aren't they moving? Is it not working?"

"Oh, it's working... But a quick tap of the hand isn't enough heat without the kagebi. The first group of things you touched have become inhabited by the kagebi that have been nesting in your touch – all of them in the area, in fact." He quickly gathered together glass jars, one for each animated object, each lid sporting a paper seal ready to permanently affix the enchanted glass together. "If you were to bring anything else to life... You'll need to hold it for longer, or light a flame inside. All you have left is the pure power of the kaminote, unadulterated by the kagebi."

Carefully, Ginko placed the opening of a jar to the open top of the daruma candle holder and held a lit match to the upended bottom of the glass. Almost like a curious child, the kagebi crawled as much as a flame could into the glass jar, the candle holder freezing up into its cold form once again. He snapped the glass lid over the kagebi, the mushi seals stretching by themselves to lock the kagebi and all its effects inside.

"Damn, these things are annoying!" He grunted with effort as the jar shook, screaming like a kettle as the kagebi tried to escape from entrapment. It was only when the clear glass fogged and frosted, obscuring the blue glow of what was inside, that Ginko could relax. But not for long. He repeated the seal again with a different one.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And so on, until all the objects were just that again – inanimate, nonliving bric-a-brac. Even the cat. With each capture of a kagebi, Mikoto shivered less, even shedding her coat once there was only one left.

"Are they... dead?" Yoshida asked, wary of touching any objects again. "Are they gone?"

"No... And no. The mushi are just trapped, to be dealt with later. The kaminote spores are still on the objects, it's just too cold for them in here. They're not very likely to grow into much more than that, however," Ginko huffed, running one hand through his hair. As scientific as mushi were, there was a spiritual aspect – and sometimes it really took the energy out of him. "They're out of your hands now. Your daughter will recover with time." Yoshida let out a sigh of relief, her hand pressed to her chest to calm her hammering heart.

"And this curse will leave me, correct?" Ginko bit his top lip every so slightly, but his eyes remained focused.

"No. The kaminote, once it occupies a host for reproduction, does not leave. Sometimes, the mushi are with us forever." Her eyes became downcast, brows furrowed in upset. She looked up at him, her dark pupils meeting his singular, green eye with a silent plea for a solution. He would tell her more about it, but not everyone cared to learn about mushi, much less someone who had just faced a serious ordeal with one. The kaminote would produce at most, three offspring while inhabiting Yoshida's hands. The objects that the new kaminote would reside in would continue to move whenever it was warm enough, even after the heat source was extinguished the first time. But, there was no need to freak out the customer; although the kaminote easily passed on spores that temporarily animated objects, it was a mushi that was difficult to nurse in modern day.

"It doesn't have to be a curse, Yoshida-san. You should make the most of it," he advised. "If you want to suppress it, wear gloves to dull heat transferal. If you don't want to wear gloves, you can always make it a neat party trick, although I wouldn't recommend it."

"Don't make fun of me!" she snapped. Embarrassed, she pat down her hair that frizzed up in the excitement earlier. "I'm very glad that you helped me, I really am, but this is horrible. This... It's freakish – it's not right." Ginko sighed, rubbing at his arm to send away the residual cold from the mystic blue flames.

"It may seem unnatural, but it is part of the natural world. The kaminote is born, reproduces, and dies just as any other living being does. It is part of a shadow world that is interwoven with ours on every level."

"You're not the one with a spirit living inside you. I'm going to have to deal with this for the rest of my life!" She gave a small hiccup in her voice, tears of frustration threatening to fall. She ran a hand through her hair, the permed curls becoming messy and undone by the touch. He frowned.

"...I'm sorry." He chose his answer carefully, his brow furrowed. "I know it's difficult." Mikoto let out a shuddering breath, composing herself.

"...I'm sorry too, Mr. Nakano. That was insensitive of me." She wiped at her eyes, and Ginko looked away. He had never been fantastic with crying women, preferring to let them feel more private about it without his commentary. "I have your payment here," she started, her voice quiet. A return to normalcy might be the key, then. Normal, mundane actions like paying for services rendered. As if working on clockwork, Ginko told her his usual rate and broke out a calculator, the air awkward, but uncharged. He accepted her debit card, and sent her on her way with some more of the medicine he gave her before, out of concern. How strange it was to have such an intense encounter, only to end it with a simple, day-to-day money transaction.

"Give the medicine to your daughter as well, but give her only half the dosage that you're taking. It will help with the lingering effects of the kagebi as well."

Mikoto gave him a small smile at the door, warm, and appreciative.

"Thank you, Ginko." He waved her off, gently closing the door behind her. Movements sluggish, he placed all the various candle holders, decorative pieces, and statues back in their proper places, holding up books and pushing back files, sitting on loose papers and some simply as decorative good luck charms. But when he touched the cat, it wriggled lazily, turning around in his arms as he tried to keep hold of it.

"Whoa!" he yelped, tripping over his chair and the corner of the counter as he tried to keep the cat in his hands. "Stop squirming!" It meowed at him, it's mouth empty of any blue glow. But if the cat kept moving after its initial heat source was cut off...

"Oh wow..." Ginko breathed out. "Amazing... An infant kaminote, in my beckoning cat. Gestated and everything." Had he known this was there, he never would have charged Mrs. Yoshida anything. He decided to refund the charge later that night, after he was done taking notes on his new cat. A rare, mushi marvel such as this would have more than sufficed, no payment necessary. The cat meowed again, pushing it's porcelain nose into his skin to be petted and held closer. Closer to the heat source that kept it going.

"How does... Toji sound?" The cat yawned and meowed its approval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm thinking this story is going to be really hard to write sometimes. That's ok though; it's for fun, so I'm not overly concerned about the result. Is this going to have a plot? Yes. Ish.
> 
> Very Important Note: Not every chapter will be in chronological order. Some chapters will be flashbacks or just mundane chaplets (like, mini-chapters I suppose) that do not really contribute to the modern-day story. I will put a note at the beginning of such chapters to indicate that they are non-chronological. Anything that's not a chaplet or a flashback, will be in chronological order. Also, I'm doing a 100 themes story that meshes with Celadon Cicadas. Both of these stories should be able to be read as standalone, but should be better together.
> 
> Beckoning Cat – you know those cute little ceramic cats that people will put in their businesses for good luck? Those. I nabbed the idea for Toji the Maneki Neko from Natsume's Book of Friends, which has a yokai named Madara sealed in the form of one of these cat statues.  
> Kagebi – lit. shadow fire. That blue fire thing that appeared in I think... Season 2.  
> Tsukumogami – lit. tool god. An youkai from Japanese folklore. Basically, little objects around the house that ran around on two legs.  
> Me-Odori – lit. eyes dancing. Original mushi. Makes eyes in painting moves like in Scooby Doo.  
> Chozo-Jitekko – lit. image lodestone. Original mushi. Causes other objects to graviate toward one single object.  
> Kaminote - lit. Hand of God. Original mushi.


	3. Quiet Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***CW: ANXIETY, nausea
> 
> When you call out into a cave, your own voice is echoed back at you. In the darkness, it's almost believable that there's a second mouth, calling back exactly what you had before... But in the end, the cave cannot speak.

_She's pathetic. I can't believe she got it. Why does she bother?_

She could hear them whisper, talking behind their hands like she wasn't there. This happened every time. Her feet would shake in her faded pointe shoes - her arms would quiver, her core was weak. It was hard to not stare into people's faces as they whispered, wondering why their pale mouths weren't moving, splitting their pale faces.

_These shoes are tight. I haven't broken them in properly._

That didn't make sense. Her shoes weren't tight. Were they? Croisé. Step into a plié. Lean back, put her wrist on her forehead. She was swooning, gliding like a dove. Jump -

“No, no, no! Stop!” A voice screeched. Kusakari Tamao flinched, her poise breaking like glass. It was the trainer and choreographer, Tetsuno Akifumi, storming up to the stage in disarray like a displaced eagle. “What happened to your beautiful audition, Kusakari-kun? Why are your poses so weak? Have you been slacking for the past few days? Because this isn't good enough.”

_He's right. She's doing terribly. A good ballerina doesn't break under pressure. What's all the yelling for?_

“I... I'm sorry.” She apologized. Her throat was weak – it wasn't much like her to talk after someone angry like this. She gave a quick and awkward bow, worried about what might happen to the role she got. “I'll do better.” Tetsuno sighed, rubbing the creases out from his temples.

“I know you've been feeling sick, but it's do or die. Do better, or your solo part will be given to Adachi-kun instead.” Tamao's heart jumped into her throat, resting there like a stone collar. What was she going to do? She was going to lose her part for sure. This was... shameful. This was embarrassing. She worked so hard for this, only to fail herself so close to opening night. She could almost choke.

_Adachi Tatsuya has more experience; she would do better. Why can't Tamao-san do this right? Poor girl._

“...I understand, sir.” Tamao's voice was small, and wavered with emotion as she shrunk in on herself.

“I can't do this; you're done for today. Take your things and go home. You can prove yourself on Monday,” Tetsuno huffed, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. He turned to the other ballerinas, clapping his hands to get their attention. They perked up, eager to get to work – their skirts flounced and swayed as they hurried over, having already been taught the drill many weeks ago. “Group B! I need you on stage. We're going to work on your horrible timing.”

_It's disrespectful to mess up the chance Tetsuno-sensei gave her. We don't have time for this. I thought Group A would go first. Just goes to show you don't make a nineteen year old a co-star._

Tamao rushed out of the concert hall, quickly snatching up her mesh drawstring bag and she left for the changing room, the sleek and modern hall lights passing her by. Why couldn't she do this right? Why did she have to shake like a leaf every time? Why couldn't everyone just stop whispering?

But they weren't, were they? She saw that no one's mouth was moving. No one was turned to each other. They all watched her dance with furrowed brows and slight frowns. But it didn't matter – she knew what they must think. And that's what got to her the most – that she wasn't making it up.

A sudden, sour feeling swirled in her abdomen, forcing Tamao to slide into a bathroom stall near the dressing room. The yellow-tiled floor was cold and hard against her knees, and her face hovered over the white bowl, sweating and panting like a dog.

It wasn't enough that she felt distraught – her stress also caused her to often feel sick without any reprieve. It was getting hard to tell whether she brought the phantom nausea on herself or it was something she ate. After a few minutes of heavy panting, Tamao pushed herself away from the stall and into the dressing room, fumbling for her locker.

* * *

The doctor had given her another prescription. She had reacted badly to almost all the medications she had tried before, and this was her last choice. Tamao had asked the doctor if she could try a kampo formula. Willing to try anything once, the man had written her a recommendation straightaway, along with a list of local herbalists who could fill the order.

With her blue prescription in hand, she was on her way to the herbalist closest to her own home. It was a small place, a little building painted in a faded blue, stuck between two larger stores as if it was stuck in a large alleyway. An equally faded wooden sign was stuck above the front door, sporting a single word, 'Nakano', etched neatly in sunken, yellow kanji.

It wasn't the first place she'd went to – she tried the more popular and respectable clinics first. But they were either closed due to it being seven in the evening or the practitioners were out on vacation. In the end, this dingy little place was her only choice. Her palms were sweaty, and she rubbed them dry onto her pleated skirt before taking hold of the door handle.

The shop was quiet as she walked in, almost silent except for the jingling of the bell above her and the muffled noises of things being moved around in the back of the shop. The seconds arm of two different clocks softly clicked in time together, barely discernible to the ears. Incense was burning in the shop, the scent pungent and smoky, like the sweet smell of yams being cooked in a fire.

“Hello?” she called out, mystified by the otherworldly storefront. “Is there a Nakano Yuto here?” A loud crash of metal was heard from the back of the building, through a door behind the counter.

“Yeah – that's me! I'll be right out!” A man's voice called out from what seemed to be storage space. Soon enough, a man came from the back room, dusting himself off with one arm while the other balanced a box of metal pots and cooking tools on his hip. He placed the box under the other side of the counter and stood back up to meet her eyes with his own green ones. A foreigner? Maybe, but the angles and curves were all wrong. His face was distinctly Japanese.

“How can I help you miss?” He asked with a friendly smile. His eyes seemed to drift over her head for a second in consideration – her hair probably looked funny since it was windy outside.

“My name is Kusakari Tamao... I have a consultation today.”

 _Looks wispy,_ echoed a voice in her mind. _I wonder if she knows._

Tamao averted her eyes, letting herself nervously smooth down her tied hair. He probably really did think that. He gave her a standard first-time patient form, pointing to the tiny boxes printed in thin black ink. She quickly filled it out in pen and handed it back. Nakano reached into his pocket to pull out a plain tin box of what seemed to be home-rolled cigarettes.

“I'm sorry, but do you mind if I smoke in here? It's for medical reasons.” An herbalist smoking in their own shop? No wonder the storefront looked like it was in need of repair – nobody would pay to go to a clinic that wasn't smoke-free. Especially if it was the apothecary himself who was smoking.

“Ah, no, it's fine... It's your store, after all, Dr. Nakano.” Nakano Yuto muttered a thank you before lighting up, taking a deep drag and blowing the thick, burning smoke out the side of his mouth. Even if he directed it away from her, Tamao coughed lightly, fighting the urge to wave away the smoke that seemed to curl around her head like a hat. The man stood from his seat, already looking through his medicine cabinets on the wall. “Um... I'm here to fill a prescription. For hangekobokuto.”

The white-haired man turned and took the blue slip that she held out, grunting his assent before turning back to the cabinet. Wasn't he going to check her prescription in the system?

“Is there no check-up?” she wondered out loud, unsure if he would reply.

“I trust your doctor,” was the only answer she received, and she wasn't sure how to contest that. “And call me Ginko. It's a nickname.” No, she couldn't. That would be too familiar. But, it was a request. So... maybe. In her head she would.

“Here we go...” He pulled out the drawer and set it on a nearby table, but not the counter. From a different drawer and pulled out a small, paper box; the kind used for typical products sold in stores. One by one, he packed the tiny box with folded white packets full of loose tea. Tamao raised her brows, realizing just how old-school this guy was.

“Do you feel like you can hear other's thoughts?” Ginko asked suddenly. Tamao blinked, leaving her mouth open a bit when she wasn't sure how to answer.

“O-oh!” A pair of white brows were raised at her – he was expecting her to answer. “Um... No.” Tamao fidgeted with her hair, breaking eye contact. “Do you mean like, anxiety?” Ginko gave a quick 'sure' in reply. “Then yes, I um... I feel quite anxious. A lot. I get physically sick when I get too stressed out.”

“What about right now?”

“N-no... I'm alright right now,” she surprised herself. It was rare that she had a moment of peace like this. “I guess the incense helps. The scent is very calming.”

“I'm glad. I suppose I chose the incense well. This cigarillos are made from the same scent.” The white box was put in front of her on the counter. “Hangekobokuto is a loose leaf tea. Drink it before every meal, but no more than three times a day. I think it would be good for you to stop in after a few days so we can see how you're responding to the medicine.” Tamao nodded her assent, and put the box of tea packets in her bag. Before she left, she scheduled a follow-up appointment as he suggested, and paid for services rendered.

* * *

She drank her tea last night before dinner, and this morning before breakfast. Shouldn't it be helping her? Despite her best efforts, she felt more nervous than ever. Gracefully, or, as graceful as she could make it, Tamao leaned forward, her tiny knee almost touching the stage with her front toe taking a good portion of her weight. Like a bird, she splayed her fingers as she brought her arms above her head to make wings, and laid back to let Odile take flight.

_Messy. She letting her Odile fall apart. If she can't dance, then be she shouldn't be here. Less than a week until opening night._

Tamao faltered, and her position bobbed as she struggled to keep her torso in its plane. With wide eyes, she desperately looked around to each face in the hall. No mouths were moving. Not a lip askew. All eyes were on her. Judging. Waiting for her to fail. Following her every move. She knew it. They had to be. They could pick out all her flaws with their black eyes, round and wide. Tamao felt naked, like she had been vivisected and her deepest weaknesses were put on display.

_She's sweating like a pig. You can't dance if you can't move. She's not worthy of being Odile. Still an ugly duckling, and not a swan. Tamao should go home._

She shouldn't be here. Tamao knew that. She felt it, she thought it. A sudden sob broke through her, her voice gasping on her tears. Hot tears ran down her skin as she curled into her knees. Why was she here? She didn't deserve this. She wasn't better than anyone else. She got lucky, and her luck's ran out. She should hang up her shoes.

_She should hang up her shoes._

She should quit the dance company – she should give the role of Odile to her understudy.

_She should quit the dance company – she should give the role of Odile to her understudy._

She knew it. Tamao knew they thought the same, and before Tetsuno could stop her, she ran out, her skin burning wherever her black leotard rested. It was hard to see her way to the dressing room through her blurry tears, but her feet knew the way, more so than the role she was supposed to dance.

Hurriedly, she stripped off her leotard and threw her things into the trash, and changed back into her street clothes. The ballet company didn't need her anymore. They could find someone better. Did she even have an understudy? Tamao smacked her head with her wrist. Stupid! The understudy broke her leg. Now wracked with the additional guilt of her abandonment of the ballet, fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, only barely affected as she scrubbed them away with her hands.

She... A place to think would be good. A place to think this through. Somewhere quiet. And peaceful. Where she didn't have to hear anyone else's thoughts but her own.

* * *

Nakano Yuto, or Ginko, was already at the counter when she arrived, even though her follow-up wasn't scheduled until later that day.

“Dr. Nakano...” Her voice trailed off. He was smoking that homemade cigarette again, but that was alright. She had bigger things to worry about than smoke. “Sorry I'm a few hours early...”

“It's no problem. I wasn't doing anything,” he sat back in his tall wooden chair, gently chewing on the end of his lit tobacco stick. “Has it gotten worse?”

“Yes...” Tamao sniffled a bit, but she had no more tears to give. Her eyes only stung as the cloth of her sweater sleeve brushed past the puffy red skin. It was curious how he knew, but with her eyes rimmed a bright red like they were, she wasn't surprised. “It's just getting to be too much. It... It feels real. I get worried about my sanity – hearing voices is never a good sign.”

“I was afraid of that,” he said heavily. The white-haired man gestured for her to take a seat on one of the ratty, brown loveseats in the store before milling about his medicine cabinet again, pulling out a different drawer from last time. From it, he removed a glass jar filled with what looked like a black and grainy powder, and he sat down opposite her. “I didn't want to freak you out, but it seems that the hangekobokuto wasn't enough for you.”

“Is this another medicine? What's wrong with me?” Was she crazy? Was this a disease she couldn't get rid of? It was good that she was sitting, because her weak knees knocked together, held in place by heavy arms that felt like they were weighed down by stone.

“It's a treatment. It's just black sea salt. To steam out the mushi.” He put the jar in front of her and clasped his hands together. “Do you know what mushi are, miss?” Bugs? Did she have an infestation? Curious, she shook her head, extremely wary, and very nervous about what the apothecary meant.

“Most people think of mushi as spirits. The average person can't see them, understand them, or touch them, but they affect the world on a large scale. Mysterious and often fantastic things are caused by mushi, these strange creatures of the hidden world.” A thick, calloused finger pointed to himself lightly tapping the side of his head. “And you have one right here.”

“Like a parasite?” Tamao gagged. In her brain? Her mind raced, getting panicky as her stomach turned.

“Yes. It's called the Tomonari,” he said. “It's a parasitic mushi that likes to live in food-based mold, even if there's just a little bit. You might have gotten it from a sandwich past its sell-by date. The Tomonari travels in small, spore-like cells through the bloodstream until it reaches the brain, where it nests in the temporal lobe.” Ginko dragged a thumb from his abdomen to his brain, poking the side of his head to point out where the Tomonari would make it's home. “Once it gets to the brain, the host starts to hear things, like voices, and quiet whispers. These are other people's thoughts, but you can fight against the Tomonari by ignoring them. When this starts, it starts moving closer to the primary auditory cortex to force you to listen – it causes feelings of anxiety, and worsens conditions for those who are already anxious. The mushi then burrows into the brain to hibernate, and when this happens, the thoughts of others start to change to what you yourself think.” What she herself thought?

“...It's me? I'm doing this to myself?” The man grimaced, wiggling his hand in a so-so motion.

“I don't like saying things like that, but your thoughts do cause an effect. The Tomonari both causes and feeds off of anxiety and inner thought, so it creates a cycle that's difficult to break without outside intervention.” Tamao gently picked up the glass jar in her hands, the black salt shifting from side to side as she turned it. Ginko's hands made the jar look so small, but she needed both hands to grip it tightly... Was a bit of salt enough to get rid of a parasite in her brain?

“It cannot leave the body on it's own however, and has to be steamed or smoked out. The Tomonari doesn't like salt, steam, smoke, or other preservatives or curing techniques,” Ginko tapped the glass jar. “Take a bath every day, two if you can, and make the water as hot as you can stand. Pour plenty of salt in the water and just relax. A sauna or public bath would also be a good place to go – sometimes they have their own saltwater baths, which would work just fine. You need to think better of yourself – the Tomonari's effects spread to the people around you if you give in. Do anything that makes you feel confident.” A pained bark of laughter forced its way out of Tamao's throat. Shocked at herself, she slapped a hand over her mouth.

“That's it...? A bit of salt water and positive thinking? That's supposed to solve my problem?” Oh... What was this? Tears pricked at her eyes again, and she leans her face down into her lap to hide them as the quiet sobs came unbidden. “I've felt like this... For so long... only to be told that it's an easy cure. There's nothing easy about it!” A heavy hand pat the back of her shoulder, a little awkwardly, but comforting nonetheless.

“Of course not. It's more than just steam baths and some alone time.” His voice was quiet, and mellow. It's deep undulations reminded Tamao of her father, the way he used to comfort her when she came home from a bad day at school. “But sometimes you need a little outside help, or even just a break.” He sighed, quiet as he let the teenager sob into her knees. “Not all of your issues are caused by the Tomonari. All the mushi did was make it worse. Once it's gone, the rest of your recovery is up to you. But this is your first step.” Not trusting herself to say anything more, she nodded without bringing her face up from her legs. She appreciated that Ginko let her just... hide her face like this. It was embarrassing to cry so much, about what before seemed like so little...

“You'll run out of salt pretty quickly... I'll get you some more.” She nodded again, realizing that was code for giving her some space. Some time to gather herself and relax.

* * *

The baths helped, but they were no panacea. The water had been to enough to leave her far pinker than what was usually recommended, but Ginko did tell her to make it as hot as she could stand. The salt made the steam smell like the ocean, a scent that always helped her calm down. In the bath, without anyone else to worry about, Tamao was left to her own thoughts and a lot of introspection.

In the practice room, Tamao lifted her hand to the ceiling, looking at the lights edging between her silhouetted fingers. She focused on the feeling of the salt bath, that lighter countenance that let her rest better than she ever had in the past few weeks, and the sound of ocean waves from her childhood memories. Hopefully Ginko was right that the saline steam would force some of the mushi out from the walls of her skull.

_She's back._

Tamao flinched, but stayed tall, her leg supported by the barre.

_She looks confident._

She was confident! Tamao pushed air from her nostrils like a bull, her jaws clenched together in concentration. Position: left leg behind, toe pointed. Right leg in front, foot turned. Left arm back, right arm up. She was ready. Gently, Tamao floated on her toes, starting her first turn for the solo. A pirouette into another pose, her arms stretched widely like wings. She was the black swan, undeniably beautiful.

The music, fun and jaunty, played in her head, bouncing when she did, accenting each turn of the hand, each spin on a toe. Now, the thirty revolution pirouette. The colors of the practice room spun around her, and she could see the others staring, watching. The back of her neck broke out into a sweat, cold and clammy. But her spins didn't stop – there was no stopping.

_She's Odile._

And she was. She was the princess in the black dress, dancing the night away with Prince Siegfried while her sorcerer of a father lurked in the background.

_She's just going to screw up again._

Tamao gasped, her teeth grit together, and her brows furrowed. Opening night was tomorrow, and she couldn't let this break her down. But what if it did? Her skin was itchy, it crawled and rippled the more anxious she felt. Stopping for a second, she shook her head and wiped her face before returning to the barre.

“Why did you stop?” asked a voice. It was her co-star, Wakaba Setsuko. Odette. “You were close to finishing your whole solo, and half of us haven't finished stretching yet.”

“It felt weird doing it without Siegfried.” Setsuko laughed at that, her voice like a bell.

“Well, he's right over there,” she pointed at the man n the corner, stretching along the barre. “You could probably get at least a half-run of the pas de deux through before Tetsuno-san gets here.”

“And she _won't_ , because she might pull a muscle if she doesn't finish stretching.” It was the man of the hour. Tetsuno Akifumi walked in and placed his bag by the holding area. Tamao swallowed around her own throat, anxious over how the rest of practice would go. “So you got your mojo back.”

“My... mojo?”

“ _Yes_ ,” said Tetsuno, as if there was nothing else to say. “Now we can do a proper run through. But stretches first.”

It wasn't perfect. Tamao's hands were still clammy with cold sweat before she wiped them off on a rag. Her mind still fuzzed up every so often, but her few days of baths, of introspection, and a bit of practice, helped loosen her up. The whispers still spoke every so often, but they weren't as distracting as before. Setsuko's gentle voice easily snapped her back to attention, and Tetsuno's commands felt like less of a death sentence and back to being more like a strict guideline, as they were those few weeks ago.

With the gentle yet unyielding push of the ocean, Tamao laid her body along one leg, and leaned down to feel the stretch.

* * *

Ginko had suggested she go to therapy. Her teeth ached when she moved her jaw around while she thought about it. Before she could reply, the man handed her another jar of black salt, insisting she keep doing the treatment to make sure she got all the Tomonari out.

“It's not all better. I've still got some troubles.” She mentioned in her quiet voice, idly rolling the salt jar from side to side.

“I wasn't expecting it to be perfect,” his voice was strained as he bent down to lift a box full of smaller, white packages. One by one, he opened a box to restock his herb drawers. “Do you still hear people's thoughts?”

“A little.”

“Then keep using the salt.”

As she always did, Tamao debated with herself. But she had already made her decision, so it was time to get going. The salt jar was placed on the table, and her pale hands rummaged through her pink purse for two slips of paper. They were a creamy color, with the edges punched in a shiny emerald that was a far cry from the muted jade that covered the shop's walls.

“These are for you.” Tamao held out the tickets with two hands and a small bow. Ginko let out a small noise of surprise, likely confused at the gift. “They're tickets to the ballet tonight. Swan Lake. I'm playing Odile.”

“Two tickets?”

“So that you can bring a guest.”

“Does this mean I can't charge you for the last jar of salt?” asked Ginko, one brow raised. Tamao snorted, quickly nodding and retrieving her debit card. “Don't laugh at me, I'm trying to keep this business alive.”

And that was how it went, and how a teenage girl managed to wheedle her doctor into going to the ballet.

Tamao could see him from behind the curtain – his tickets were for center seats in the upper balcony, so he could see everything. The man had brought one of his colleagues it seemed; a tanned, jovial office worker who was missing most of his hair sat next to Ginko, raucously smacking on the back as he thanked him for the ticket.

The lights flashed, dimming and brightening to signal the start of the show. Quickly, Tamao ran to her place, even though she wasn't to come on until the third Act. The music started with mighty horns and fervent violins, and the curtain raised. The stage shined brightly with Prince Siegfried dancing across the polished wood, each spin and leap perfected and worked to an art. Soon, she'll be dancing across that stage too, with her arms held high, and her heart light.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I almost put 'her palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy' at one part but I guess my better judgment won out. So, I thought a lot about my own issues when writing this, and drew from what I decided to do about my worries. Namely, get outdoors, give myself a break, cut myself some slack, and set realistic expectations of myself while learning what was an appropriate level of criticism. Of course, I skipped over a lot of that for Tamao because that stuff takes a long while, and needed it to be faster for the story.
> 
> Doctor – while we all know that sensei means teacher, it's also common to address your doctor as sensei. I don't like using honorifics too much, but they are certainly important in Japan, so i'm trying to do some sort of equivalent.  
> Kampo – traditional Japanese medicine, derived from traditional Chinese medicine, but also including formulas and medicines that are unique to Japan.  
> Hangekobokuto (Ban Xia Hou Po Tang – Pinellia and Magnolia Bark Decoction) – From , this formula treats the feeling of something being caught in your throat, dysphagia, cough, nervousness, depression, asthma, bronchitis, dizziness, heartburn, belching, vomiting.  
> Tomonari - lit. resonance/sympathy. Original mushi.
> 
> NOTE ABOUT KAMPO: Please note that Ginko's store would more than likely be a bad example for a kampo clinic. His clinic would get be run out so damn fast seeing as how he didn't do any check-up and smokes up the place. I would say that Ginko wouldn't really give two shits about modern standards for Kampo clinics, seeing as how he lived in #TheOldenDays where the doctors would travel everywhere, and Ginko's herbal practice is just a front for his mushi business, and to keep him afloat when mushi services don't quite make the cut.


	4. Jack of All Trades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intermission 1

“He's a miracleworker. You remember that strange affliction that Mizuno's grandson had last year? He cured it!” One old woman whispered to another. From across the street, they observed the white-haired man mill about through the window of his own shop, either walking while reading, playing with his cat, or simply sitting behind the counter and puffing on a smoking pipe. That Ginko, or whatever nickname he insisted people refer to him by instead of Nakano Yuto, was surely an old soul in a young body.

“You don't say! My, I heard that he can tell fortunes and predict the future,” The other old woman nodded to assure her friends she was telling the truth. “I went in one day, and he said 'it might not be safe to go to the beach tomorrow,' which was exactly what I was planning, but I hadn't told him yet! And sure enough, there was a sudden rainstorm that flooded the waterfront.” And what could be more fascinating? Ginko was surely a man of mystery and mystical phenomena, like a spirit of the old world carving its own home in the center of town.

.

.

“As far as apothecaries go, he's a bit unorthodox. Doesn't care much for all the paperwork and formalities, even has people call him Ginko, like the herb,” said one old man to another, pointing inside the small, dilapidated shop across the street. (“I'm pretty sure he spells it as 'silver child'...” said the old man's friend.) “Runs the shop like it was in a folk village, you know?”

“A medicine man? I'd heard he was a shaman, dealing with spirit like they did hundreds of years ago,” said the other old man, putting a finger on his chin. “Heard he talks about these little spirits we can't see, says they're part of the natural world and such. I thought he was a spirit medium this whole time.” And what could be more nostalgic? Ginko was a man of traditional talents, predating even the childhoods of very old men like themselves.

.

.

“He's a total stranger,” said a salaryman to his mother, who was starting to get on in her late age. “Nobody seems to know anything about him. He barely speaks to his neighbors, and never follows up on any invites. He must be working all the time just to keep that dingy old place open.”

“He's been there a long time, son,” she said, patting him on the arm. “I remember getting medicine from him when I was in high school. He still looks the same, and I'm sure he still acts the same. Very kind, but very matter-of-fact. Very casual too.”

“Can't be. Ginko must be the son of the one you met, or he would be so much older.” The mother chuckled at her son, who, in his mid-adulthood, thought he knew everything about the world. But could he ever? She wasn't sure if a subject like Nakano Yuto, or, Ginko as he preferred to be called, could ever really be knowable. All she knew was that in the smelly little shop with the faded blue paint, there was a white-haired man named Ginko who liked bugs and mysteries, and that he had become a constant in the town. Something that never changed.

And what could be more comforting? Ginko was a man of reliability; a mountain stood despite the changing winds. A seemingly ageless being who held the answers to the world in the palm of his hand, ready to let you have a taste if you ever waded deep enough into the unknown.

 


End file.
